


Eye for an Eye (And a Tooth for a Tooth)

by SuperFreakeh



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Bloodplay, Cutting, Light Bondage, M/M, Sadism, Self-Harm, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Wax Play, i could have done a lot worse, on one hand im sorry, on the other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperFreakeh/pseuds/SuperFreakeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren was a nameless shadow in a corrupt city, but he is being hunted with a purpose. Warning for abuse, torture, etc. Oneshot (?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye for an Eye (And a Tooth for a Tooth)

He heard nothing.  
Saw nothing but an abyss.  
His tongue lay limp and stale inside his mouth.  
  
But there was the feel, the subtle pressure of calloused fingers finding their niche on his arm, the inside of his thigh, moving towards his jaw.  
  
The fingers jerked his head upwards suddenly and lightly tapped around his vulnerable jugular. The fingers turned into warm hands caressing his neck and squeezing just a little too hard. As the hands clenched tighter, his lips and tongue worked furiously to allow a gasp of air to come through the narrow gap of the gag.  
  
He felt he would soon feel so lightheaded that he might float above the mortal world of pain and suffering and unrequited love. The hands pushed blunt fingernails into his Adam's apple and he hoped for it.  
  
Just a handful of seconds of unconsciousness later he awoke, gulping in air from free lips like a drowned rat out of water. His sense of hearing had come back, too, the dense cottony quality of his surroundings returning to crystal clarity.  
  
He heard the scratching of dry nib on parchment and felt goosebumps spread. With his sight still gone, he could only imagine what his captor was writing down in the far reaches of the room. It probably wasn't letters to mother.  
  
Information on him, perhaps? The findings of research? It would explain some of the prodding and moments of uncomfortable reminders of his own humanity. It might explain why someone was toying with his body in this way.  
  
The writing stopped and the faint thud of deft footsteps came nearer. He filed away this information too; his captor was light on their feet and not likely very heavy. A woman? That meant he might have a chance of escape.  
  
The sound ended directly behind him. He struggled a bit in his binds to try to turn towards the captor but was met with a stinging jab to the back of the neck, just below the shoulders.  
  
He cried out, cringing and seething through his teeth to get through the pain. A short "hmph" was made and he was sure that his captor was making mental notes, perhaps had been making mental notes all along, since before he was kidnapped...  
  
The thought was unpleasant. There was no one aside from his sister and beat friend that he associated with. A sadist such as this did not exist even in his cut-throat little town on the outskirts of a corrupt city.  
  
But another jab, slightly above the last, dug in deeper, creating a groove in the skin that connected it to the first. He felt what he was sure was blood drip into the wound as well as some acidic chemical that he suspected was ink from the pen.  
  
It happened time and time again; first, a general point of entry was penetrated into the skin, then the tip of the pen carved intricate designs from one excruciating point to the next. It was agony.  
  
If he could see, he'd find a darkly beautiful mix of brilliant maroon blood and ominous India ink. The captor was turning his entire back into a work of art, one that would last until his corpse melted into the ground.  
  
He exhaled erratically, the mixture of liquids seeping into the layers of skin dyeing the underbelly of his flesh a morbid, angry violet.  
  
The voice "tsk"-ed and at last put the pen away in its bloody jar. Though unfortunately, the captor could not say in terms of any comparison that this was his best work ever, he still swelled with the sort of guilty pride one gets from getting away with breaking mother's rules.  
  
Yes, he was truly a marvelous specimen. He would serve the Survey Corps well; he had near-perfect physical symmetry and muscles that were developing beautifully, not to mention the fact that he could withstand circumstances of extreme air deprivation and elongated pain.  
  
With a final impulsive thought, the captor cut the boy free of his bonds and knocked him on the floor, back side up. He untied the blindfold and ripped it sideways off his face, no doubt taking a few startlingly delicate eyelashes as well. But not every part of the boy would be able to be spared.  
  
The boy on the ground moaned and had barely the strength to utter a sound. He tried pushing himself up only to be forced back down by a very hard boot directly on his open wounds. He let tears fall and wished for the end.  
  
A voice appeared for the first time, its tone as soft as silk and inflection that cut like daggers. The boy strained to hear it, careful not to appear as though he were getting up.  
  
The captor seemed to realize this and dug in his heel harder. "Not this time, my pet," the voice crooned. "Surely, you've dealt with worse?" A slender hand, calloused from work, wove its way into his chestnut locks of hair, combing the fine strands to the side, jerking his head to and fro.  
  
"After all, don't you know where I found you?" That's right. He had been...servicing people to make a living for Mikasa and Armin. But wasn't today his day off? He had saved some pocket change throughout the week to buy the three of them watermelon slices at the park today. But someone had caught him and tortured him instead...?  
  
The voice of his captor brought him back to reality. "That's right. Don't think I don't know what you do when night falls, and even before breakfast, if you're lucky." It was clearly a man's voice that snarled. "Filthy slut trying to make ends meet, or just a whore wanting attention? I'll let you decide." He received a sharp kick to the ribs. "Well? Are you going to answer, pet?" A harsher kick, one that would leave black and blue behind.  
  
The man let out an impatient noise and rose to retrieve something from the table. The boy on the ground still had yet to gather his strength from the gashes in his skin.  
  
He returned with a mason jar with a flickering light inside of it. Normally, the sight of candlelight would awaken nostalgic memories in the boy, but as the captor forced his face harder into the wooden floor and purposely splashed the hot wax into the wounds, he could do nothing but howl.  The man only held him down tighter, forcing a knee between the shoulder blades as wax filled the channels dug into the boy's back.  
  
The wax started to take on the color of the ink and blood and therefore rip the scabs open again. Searing death ran races down and around the grooves, filling up the spaces with its fat, thick burn.  
  
The grey eyes of the captor glimmered. The boy's body shook violently in shock and distress.  
  
"You see, pet, I only do this much because I know what the others do." The boy let out a gross sob and the man's face turned soft for a moment. "I could do what the others do; you know this." He sunk to his knees around the boy's form and caressed his beautiful, untouched locks. "I could..." and he slipped a knee to the boy's groin and a finger around his tongue. The boy just shook silently.  
  
After a few minutes the man withdrew all hold from the boy, wiping spittle and tears off on his pant leg. He waited until it was apparent to the boy that he was to sit up now and quickly held the blindfold to his face again. The voice crouched close to the boy's quivering face, his features lost in hurt and confusion. With a tinge of sorrow, the voice murmured, "Truly, only weak men hide behind blindfolds, Eren." The boy felt a gentle, chaste kiss to the lips before he dared open his eyes to a now-empty room.  
  
There was no hint of who his captor had been, only that he seemed to know Eren fairly well. Eyeing a thick roll of bandages on a table, he found the strength to rise and wrap himself up, all while thinking how he was going to explain to Mikasa this one.  
  
After a quick glance around for apparent clues, he knew he would have to rely solely on sound and touch to find the man. But it was a large town and perhaps the man was from the city, where sluts like him were killed by the very captains that hired them.  
  
There was disdain in his heart but not a complete lack of hope. He would survive to find the man who did this to him.  
  
"An eye for an eye," Eren growled, staggering towards the door with a limp in his step and a fire in his eye. "And a tooth for a tooth."

**Author's Note:**

> I always start with oneshots and probably 5% get turned into multichapter fics. But if a miracle happens, here's the full summary: "Eren was a nameless shadow in a corrupt city, but he is being hunted with a purpose. As he gains momentum in his search for the man who tortured him, he comes to discover a side of the human psyche that lies buried deep underneath only the most twisted minds." If that happens, I fear for my soul.


End file.
